Last Night
by Black-Inque2002
Summary: Saying goodbye is always hard. It's worse when you have to watch the one you love falling apart. DilXRef. Set before the final battle in the series. M for safety.


The air is heavy now. It's dark, the night before the battle. Everyone, no matter what camp they're in or what nation they pledge allegiance to, is quivering deeply on the inside even though he may be the bravest of men. They can all sense it, even though they dare not put it in words; that tomorrow many of them will die. Tomorrow, Fate itself would change. It hung in the atmosphere, crackling and whispering across that wide vale to sigh in the ears of those who stopped to listen.

Refina thinks she can hear it as she draws back the fold of her tent to stare out into the blackness that was punctuated by lonely spots of light given off from the gas lamps around the encampment. Tents identical to her own stretched into the horizon, although now she cannot see them. And further back than that, she knows, are the guymelef squadrons ready to unleash themselves when the calvary and infantry give out. The full might of the Zaibach Empire lies before her out there, insidious in all its mechanized glory as it sits poised to conquer the earth like a ravenous beast. The sight of it alone would be enough to send even the most iron of nerves to the breaking point of fear.

Tonight, however, it holds no comfort for her. Refina feels uninspired, unsure. She knows their chances of victory are excellent. They have the power to wipe out all the other nations who have come to stand before them.

Yet there is an ache in her heart, a biting pain so deep that she found herself fighting back the tears welling in her eyes, because she knew that any victory without _him_ would be meaningless. If he was not there to fight with her, to share in the glory of the moment, there was no reason for her to fight at all. It was he who had inspired her to become what she was now; captain of her own regiment. It was their rivalry, and later their love, that had driven her to be strong, to give everything she had to protect not only their country, but him as well. He had been the ideal soldier, fearless and relentless as a wild storm on the sea.

And now...

Now the boy whom she'd thought could never falter, could never fail, was out there in his tent a completely broken soul. Ever since that afternoon when the clouds had hung grey with rain and death, Dilandau Albatou had ceased being The Diabolical Adonis. Fate had suddenly turned against him in a swift and brutally callous blow as he'd been forced to watch as his Dragonslayers were skewered alive by his greatest enemy. Rooted to the ground in abject terror, he'd finally fled, returning to Vione wrapped in the haunted veil of shock, fainting as soon as he'd stumbled out of his guymelef. For weeks afterward he'd shut himself in his room, denying everyone who came to see him, including her. Rumors had quickly spread that he'd gone insane with grief, screaming in the middle of the night and huddled in a silent corner during the day. Refina could do nothing, only watch from a distance with growing fear and concern that he would never be the same person again. She couldn't have gone and demanded that he see her; that would have given their highly illicit relationship away, causing him all the more damage. Instead, she'd grieved alongside him when she was alone in her room at night, cursing the one who'd done this to him and vowing that she'd get revenge if she ever had the chance. And when Dilandau had finally emerged to resume his duties, he'd done so apathetically as though the world held no more importance to him. His eyes, which had been his most striking feature, which had gleamed with a vicious cunning, had faded to dead embers which stared at nothing and no one. His gait shuffled and sagged against the weight of his pain, and his skin, which had always been pale, had become nearly waxen. He'd barely acknowledged her those first few days, hadn't even seemed to realize she existed. Whenever she'd managed to catch his gaze, his expression had been so wretched she'd had to force herself from running to him.

_ But I'm running to him now,_ she thinks. _This is the last night I might ever have with him. I need to see him, to tell him I love him. I want to take his sorrow away, if only for a while._

Inhaling deeply, she pulls her cloak tighter around her and checks to see that no one is nearby before slipping out of her tent and moving towards where his is set. The grass brushes softly against her legs as she steps as silently as she can. While no one would question her walking about, they would question why she was heading towards Dilandau's tent, and she isn't in the mood to offer any explanations. This moment belongs to her and no one else.

She comes upon his tent a few hundred yards away, catching sight of a tall beast-man standing guard at the entrance. The lamplight just inside the tent flap leaks out to catch on a lush golden mane that she knows to be Jajuka's.

Good Jajuka. He is the only other person who knows about herself and Dilandau. He's kept their secret all this time and has never seemed opposed to it. In fact, she thinks that some part of Jajuka is glad that another person cares for his master as much as he does.

Refina approaches slowly, both fearing what she would see and desiring it all the more. She nods at Jajuka as he turns to see her, sensitive ears picking up the barely audible _swish-swish_ of her cloak against the grass. She sees in his gaze everything she feels inside; the shared sadness, the secret anticipation of loss as well as unwavering devotion. They would both do anything for the boy inside and they both know it.

"Jajuka,"she says quietly.

"I knew you would come,"he replies, his voice deep and warm with compassion. "He's not doing well."

"I know,"she says, dark eyes flickering towards the entrance. "I had to see him."

"Maybe you can ease his grief better than I,"Jajuka says with a shake of his great head. "I cannot reach him."

"I'll try." Refina pauses to stare directly into his eyes, wanting him to see just how grateful she is for his support. "Thank you, Jajuka. Thank you for taking care of him."

Jajuka doesn't respond, but he doesn't have to. He gives her a respectful nod and moves aside so she can enter.

Refina reaches out to pull the flap aside and steps into the dimly lit interior of the tent.

The sight that greets her is enough to make her squeeze her eyes shut at the pity that lances through her chest. Dilandau is sprawled out in a chair by a table that holds a gas lamp and a half-drunk bottle of vino along with an empty glass. It's him, at least, in body, but he doesn't seem to know that someone has just come in. His head is hanging forward, silvery hair concealing his face, for which Refina is a little thankful. She isn't ready to look into his eyes just yet. She's afraid of what she might, or might not, find there. His arms dangle akimbo over the chair, the front of his leather armor unzipped halfway down his chest as though he'd started to undress but forgot to finish, or perhaps could not be bothered. She can't help but think that normally he'd be on her by now, dragging her to the sleeping pallet in the corner while pressing violent kisses all over her skin.

Shivering at those memories, she opens her eyes once more and braces herself as she starts to walk towards him. The air around him is dead, not blazing with his usual arrogance and bloodthirstiness. It was the strength of his spirit that had first drawn her to him. Now she is drawn to him out of sorrow and uncertainty. Would he still even know who she was anymore? Would he still feel anything for her?

"Dilandau?"she says, stopping three feet away. "Are you awake?"

He starts at the sound of her voice; shoulders spasming as though she'd jerked him from a dream. His silver head rises slowly, almost weakly, long bangs gently parting to reveal a pair of red eyes that peered quizzically up at her.

As soon as she looks into those eyes she immediately wishes she hadn't. Those couldn't be Dilandau's eyes! They are confused, clouded, swimming deep in some black pit that she has no power to pull him out of. Dark circles were testament to the long nights spent without sleep, having been too frightened of the nightmares that lurked behind closed lids. Despair edges his every feature, his defeat is written there for her to see. He has been crushed and ripped apart from the seams and Refina knows that the damage is so profound, so_ complete_, that he will never be healed. He will never be hers again.

When the tears threaten this time, she doesn't stop them.

"Do...do you not remember me?"she chokes out past the wedge in her throat.

"Refina...?"he whispers, his voice as cracked as his mind. He studies her closely for a moment. "Where is Jajuka?"

"He's outside,"she answers, hurriedly raising a hand to brush at the tracks of moisture on her cheeks.

"Where did you go?"he asks her, eyes almost a glare as though he's accusing her of deserting him. "I was alone."

"I've been here. I've been worried about you. You wouldn't let anyone see you for a long time."

Dilandau blinks, clearly confused as to just how much time has passed. He doesn't appear to remember when he'd locked himself in his room those few months ago. He shakes his head and arranges himself into a more comfortable position.

"Don't leave me alone,"he replies, his voice caught between plea and command, eyes taking on a momentary sharpness. "Don't leave me alone like the others did."

"I won't,"Refina says, taking another step towards him, sincerely meaning what she's saying. "I won't leave you. You know I'd never leave you."

Apparently placated as well as unimpressed with her loyalty, he looks away with an indifferent grunt.

"Why are you standing? I hate it when people hover over me. Sit."

She glances around for another chair and, finding none, kneels beside him, forcing herself to keep her hands in her lap when really all she wants is to throw her arms around him.

"H-How are you feeling now?"

"Tch...who cares how I feel?"

"...I do."

Dilandau snickers, mouth turned up into a manic grin, and Refina winces at the unsettling edge in his laugh that hadn't been there before. It's the laugh of one who's given up.

"It doesn't matter. It doesn't matter at all! They all die in the end! All of them!"

"But _I'm_ not dead,"she protests in spite the leaden feeling she gets in her stomach. "I'm here now. I came to see you because I care about you. I came because I don't want you to be alone!

"But I am,"he replies, his voice a hoarse whisper as he hangs his head again, veiling his eyes in shadow. "They're all gone. They'll never come back."

Impulsively, she reaches for his hand, even though she realizes that there are some wounds so deep that you'll never get over them; that they'll stay lodged in your heart forever. Refina imagines that she would be much the same way if she saw _him_ die in front of her; just seeing him like this is already tearing her open inside.

He doesn't react when her hand meets his. Normally he would have scoffed at such an open display of affection, but his mind is three sheets to the wind and likely he doesn't even feel it.

"Dilandau..."she whispers, eyes searching what little she can see of his face. "Don't shut me out. Let me help you."

"You can't."

"I can try. I don't want to see you like this."

He doesn't respond. Gently, she raises her hand to his silvery hair and brushes it out of his eyes, shocked to see how ashen his skin has become, as if all his vitality has been drained away. He shudders a little, grimacing against the pain as it reaches a breaking point before collapsing against her. Immediately her arms are around him and she can feel how bony his shoulders have gotten. It's a wraith she's embracing now, not a man.

Refina rests her cheek on the top of his head as he buries his face into her cloak, reveling in the feel of him after all this time apart. He still smells of ash and cinder.

"Stay with me,"he rasps, burying his face in her cloak, lips just inches from her heart as he speaks.

Her hold on him tightens, part of her desperately wishing it was like the way it had been before, and part of her just as desperately wishing she could be strength enough for both of them. But she's just as lost as he is now. They're not even captains anymore; just two fifteen year old kids. Scared fifteen year old kids who couldn't understand or make sense of the actions of their superiors; actions which had inevitably led to fatal consequences. Why were they fighting? Just who was really the enemy anymore? In all honesty, Emperor Dornkirk had caused them as much pain as the enemies on the other side of the front.

Just what the hell was the point of all this?

Refina is seized by a sudden desire to steal him away and flee. They'd run as far as they could and find a place where he could be free of his pain...

It would never work, and she knows it. There's no place for them to run. And she's not going to cheat Dilandau of another chance to get his revenge on the one who put him here. He deserved at least that. She had her duties to her own division. Abandoning them now would be cowardly and no matter how frightened she is, Refina will never let herself become a coward.

"Dilandau..."she whispers, not really sure she wants to say the next three words, because they're starting to sound too much like goodbye. But they're forcing their way down from her mind to her lips, begging to be voiced so at least he couldn't be in doubt about where she stood. Closing her eyes, she braces herself for what comes next:

"I love you."

The words ring out in the silence, sealing their fate. There's no taking them back now.

He doesn't respond, not at first. She feels him stiffen in her arms as though he's horrified at the idea of the word "love." He's never known it, at least not before she tried to show him just how much love she felt for him. He's been raised to kill, feeding off of hate, both his own and that of others. He lives for nothing else. A word so antithetical to his entire being would naturally make no sense to him, yet Refina speaks it because she needs to. Because tomorrow might not be there.

"I love you so much...I wish I could-"

"Shut up."

She starts at the harshness in his voice, the way in which he's dismissed her feelings so abrasively, yet finds herself even more shocked when he begins to press his lips roughly against the tender skin of her neck.

"Just shut up,"he mutters against her, working his way blindly upwards towards the curve of her jaw. He's not in the mood to hear such useless words. Especially not now. What good were they? What good did "I love you" mean? Not a damn thing when you're facing the end of the road. If she loved him like she said she did, she should just stop trying to comfort him and _show_ it.

He's half out of the chair now, unzipping his armored jacket and tossing it carelessly to the ground. His mouth's found hers, and she's sighing in pleasure, pulling him urgently into her embrace. There's nothing to lose here. If this was it, then this was it, and they're done with words, done with their grief, at least for the time being. All that mattered now was this physical communion, this lush and an primordial thing that expressed far more than language ever could.

Dilandau's hands are tearing at her cloak, unceremoniously ripping it off of Refina's shoulders as he's moving them towards the far side of the tent. She doesn't seem to mind. She's busy trying to unlace his undershirt and her movements are no less demanding, and Dilandau realizes that perhaps is why he's let himself carry on this liaison for as long as they have. She wasn't like other women, even though admittedly he'd never really been around too many. Women to him had always seemed like frail, fussy creatures without a real thought in their minds. Then Refina had come along and matched him wit for wit, sword for sword, and hadn't let him bring her down. She was strong in a quiet, thoughtful way that a river gradually and inevitably wears down a mountain. It was a quality that had perplexed him, intrigued him and frustrated him, prompting him to try every way he could to pick her apart.

It had been interesting, the things he'd discovered about her. What she liked, what she didn't. How she wanted to be touched.

He's doing it now, touching her the way she likes, and judging from her reaction, he's hitting all the right spots, further stirring something hot and aching that he'd left dormant for too long. They've made to the pallet tucked within the nest of cool, velvety shadows, and Refina's dragging him down into it, into her.

It's desperate, almost violent, what they do in the humid rush of their desire. It's tangled limbs thrashing about, recklessly knocking over anything that happens to be in the way, lips and tongues searching and delving into every unmentionable place they can get to. It's her gasping out his name and clawing at his back as he takes her and surrounds her with all his elemental fury. It's him clinging onto what pitiful shred of emotional connection to the human world he has left, vowing as his mouth meets hers once again in a delicious tactile collision, that he's not letting anyone take this away from him. Not Van, who'd taken away his men. Not Dornkirk, who'd taken away his sanity. Not _anyone. _

They try with all their might to make it last, to revel in the single-minded animal awareness of taut flesh and singing nerves. Neither of them is ready to give up too soon, but their bodies eventually surrender, and they shatter into each other, carried away by the pounding currents of rage, lust, and love. They bury their faces into the skin of the other, wringing out every last painful drop of sweetness before collapsing in a heap of panting exhaustion. They've covered each other with bites and bruises, a visceral narrative of feral passion only killers like themselves could understand.

They don't speak. There's no need to. They merely lay entwined upon the now thoroughly ravaged pallet soaking up each other's heat and mutual satiation, hands slowly caressing as if trying to reassure themselves that they're really here. Refina closes her eyes, concentrating on the feel of Dilandau's fingers skimming over her shoulder and down her waist, his face pressed against her neck, listening to his breathing gradually slow. She runs the fingers of her right hand through his hair, opening her eyes to gaze at him with possessive fascination, drinking in every line and feature that the dim light will allow her to see, knowing this might be her last chance to do so. He's almost asleep, and his hands have stopped their restless exploration at the small of her back. In a few minutes, she follows suit, afterglow lulling her mind into the temporary peacefulness of slumber, sweetly and mercifully holding back the tides of foreboding and turmoil that tomorrow will bring. Their souls belong to Fate now, but whatever cruel and capricious cards she deals in the future, this night, this moment will forever be theirs.

A/N: Wow...heavy, huh? I don't think I've ever written anything quite so sexual, but it was fun to do. I love exploring this pairing. They're just so fabulously twisted.


End file.
